58
There’s something about the monotony of swimming laps. Your mind can just wander. Stroke, stroke, Nick, Winter Formal, stroke, stroke, Russian girl, Greg, Matt, Nick, Peter, can’t figure guys out, should have been my research project, stroke, stroke, looked at yourself in the mirror lately—
Eureka.
I stopped at the end of the pool and rested my arms on the ledge. My feet kept kicking, I was so excited.
Oh, it was wicked evil. But also kind of genius.
I needed a second opinion. I jumped out of the pool, quickly changed, and then drove to Amanda’s house on my way home. She was in the middle of Casablanca, but she graciously turned it off.
“I have a new experiment,” I said. “Listen.” Then I told her my whole idea.
“Is it just too ... wrong?” I asked when I was finished.
“Wrong how?
